Page 15 of Proposal Play

He shoots me a searing stare. “No, you didn’t.”

I flash a big grin. “Yes. I did. Have fun with the wife tonight. Catch you later.”

I don’t even give him the chance to protest. I take off, heading into the cool San Francisco night. Once outside,as the fog curls its arms around me, I open an app to grab a ride home when a hand comes down on my shoulder. I don’t flinch since it’s my job to handle surprises.

I turn around to see…Miranda. Her smile is as sleek as her hair. Her eyes glint with opportunity.

“We could still go out. Maybe it’s even better this way,” she says, her voice a purr, her hand curling tighter around me. I hear a rustle nearby. Someone else, maybe? Who knows?

“Thanks, but I’m busy,” I say coolly. It’s not the first time a woman has sashayed over and put her hands on me without asking. I’d be naive to think it’ll be the last.

“You can’t be busy every night though,” she says, inching closer, hand gripping tighter.

I reach for her hand and peel it off me. And I do mean peel, because holy hell, this woman has claws, and they are digging in. I’m well aware that eyes are always on pro athletes. That rustle could be someone, andsomeoneshave cameras. One wrong move can lead to a scandal. So I’m careful as I let Miranda’s hand fall, then step back from her.

“Thanks again for coming tonight. Really appreciate your support,” I say as shoes click toward me on the sidewalk, coming from the other direction.

I turn to the sound.

A vision emerges in the foggy night. A woman sporting a vest, a trench coat, and an attitude.

I fight off a smile.

“Hey, babe,” she says, then flashes a saccharin smile at Miranda. “And hey, no hard feelings about that whole thing in there, right?” Maeve waves a hand airily at the mansion. “I just couldn’t let anyone else get their hands on this man.”

She slides right up to me, wraps an arm around my neck, the other around my waist, and drops a kiss on my cheek, like the date she won is real.

Right now, with her wedged against me, the datefeelsreal.

That’s my excuse at least. Since this might seem like a bad idea later, but right now, I have zero regrets as I make a game-day decision, turn my face, and impulsively capture her lips with mine.

A soft brush. An almost-chaste touch. But I smell sweet plums, and I taste raspberry lipstick. Most of all, IfeelMaeve’s mouth as she kisses me back. Brushing her lips against mine. Parting them the slightest bit.

An invitation, perhaps, for more?

Like I could say no. I coast my lips across hers. In no time, her fingers curl tighter around my neck. Her other hand presses more firmly on my waist. The tiniest gust of breath from her sweet mouth has my chest overheating. I cup her cheek, and my head pings with wild possibilities. What if this kiss became more real? What if it was a prelude to something else entirely?

In a few terribly short seconds, I already want to toss her over my shoulder and take her home. See if she looks as good in my ties, bound to her wrists, as she does in that vest.

But just as quickly as it started, the kiss ends. Over after it barely began. I don’t know if she wrenches apart first or if I do. Maybe we both knew we needed to stop. I swallow roughly. She catches her breath.

My brain comes back online, and I reconnect to the fog, the night, the rustle of people, the birds, a car nearby.

And, most of all, the onlooker.

Right…Miranda.

The kiss lasted less than ten seconds. It was a kiss for an audience. A kiss for a cause. But mostly, it was a stolen kiss for me.

Miranda rolls her eyes, then says to me, “You’re not even that hot.”

Maeve scoffs and tugs me harder against her. “My date is the hottest, and you know it.”

“Whatever.” Miranda lifts a dismissive hand, wheels around, and marches back into the mansion.

Maeve looks at me, affection in her eyes. “You’re totally hot. Don’t let her get you down,” she says, patting my chest in a friendly way.

Friendly.

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